Red Willow, Red Sands
by Lailara
Summary: When an ancient evil rises, a member of the Scooby Gang must save the world. Only this time, it's not Buffy. Crossover with The Mummy and The Mummy Returns.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
Distribution: my site, fanfiction.net, anyone else who wants it.  
Spoilers: maybe tiny ones for the movie and 'The Gift' and 'Bargaining' for the series.  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Author's notes: AU. Fudged timeline: I'm assuming Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenburg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944. Alex's birth here doesn't coincide with his age in The Mummy Returns, but this works well for me.  
AN2: This takes place between Buffy S5 and S6. Yes, Buffy's still dead.  
AN3: This is in response to Echo's challenge concerning Ardeth's child or grandchild. (Willow is the daughter of Ardeth's goddaughter.)  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
--1949--  
  
"Ardeth!" The girl's cry permeated the tepid night air.  
  
The two desert siblings trudged through the sand, on a mission to find their godfather. The boy, Alex, was now 20, his once spun gold hair now a duller, sandy blonde, his eyes still a piercing blue. In his arms, the sobbing form of a girl, five years of age, cradled tightly to his chest. "Ssh, Sheila, we'll find him," he whispered in her bright read hair. She sniffled and looked up at him, her green eyes shimmered with tears. Her little head bobbed up and down, and her arms slid around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder.  
  
In the distance, Alex saw a man in dark robes sitting nobly atop a black Arabian, Sheila's favorite horse. He heard some miscellaneous commands being shouted in Arabic, and he allowed himself to collapse into the sand, his knees impacting the ground softly, rolling onto his back. Alex's lips brushed over the girl's soft, pale forehead, "We're home."  
  
*****  
  
Ardeth Bay stepped out of the tent, leaving the exhausted youths to their restless beds. He sighed and began walking toward the group gathering a few feet away. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. Opening his mouth, he addressed his people with a shaking voice, "Richard and Evelyn O'Connell are dead."  
  
*****  
  
In the years since Ahm Shere, Rick came to accept his place with the Medjai, joining Ardeth in command. Evie, Jon, and Alex natually moved to the desert to be together. When Alex was 14, and Evie was beginning to accept her fears that she would never have another child, she found out she was pregnant.  
  
The birth was much celebrated among the family and the Medjai tribes. Alex loved the girl from the first time he held her in his arms, wanting to be the best big brother he could.  
  
That was in 1944.  
  
Evie discovered a scroll in late 1946, describing in more detail, the ritual curse of the Hom-dei. It outlined the curse and the effects should the Creature rise again.   
  
Her translations were flawless, as usual, and they revealed an unknown clause. Those that would defeat the Creature would be blessed with an extended life span, due to their knowledge of defeating him. That included Rick and herself, as well as possibly Ardeth. The clause also stated that if those blessed with the life were killed by natural forces of evil, such as murder, the blessing would pass on to the leader of the 12 Medjai tribes, that definitely meant Ardeth, Evie had mused over the passages.  
  
What was to be their last dig lead them to a small shrine 40 miles from Karnak. Evie was determined to find more writings to confirm the clause.  
  
While Evie and Rick searched, Alex took Sheila to explore the shrine.  
  
He hadn't known anything was wrong until he heard his mother's scream. He scooped Sheila into his arms and raced toward the shriek.  
  
What he found shocked him and destroyed his heart and soul. The treasures of the shrine were gone, stolen. His mother laid, unmoving, run through with a sword. His father's skull, a shattered mess, torn by a bullet propelled by greed.  
  
His profound and desperate love for his baby sister was the only thing that kept him from laying down and dying with them.  
  
She was his only reason for living now; his only excuse he could find for not sliding his father's gun into his mouth and easing back on the trigger. He had to get to their godfather, the man that would care for them.  
  
*****  
  
Ardeth pulled the blanket over Sheila's petite form, holding back tears from Alex's accounting of the tragedy. He had sent a message to Cairo, telling Jonathan to come immediately to the camp.  
  
Alex's eyes were puffy and red from his tears, and his body was numbing slowly, not wanting to deal with the pain, wanting only the sweet denial, swearing his disbelief at his parents' death. Images of their lifeless bodies haunted his mind, the spectres taunting him with their brutality. He brought the cup of water to his lips and drank, the liquid spilling out onto his shirt slightly.  
  
"Alex?" the soft, concerned voice accented by years of living in the desert asked him. His head pivoted to stare unseeing at his "other father," as he'd come to know him. Ardeth sat next to the young man.  
  
"You know? Mom and Dad never knew where I got my blonde hair from, or where Shels got her red from. I mean, they were both brunettes..." he trailed off, a fresh round of sobs racking his lean, muscular frame. He scrubbed at his face with his palms, the pale scars of a life of roughhousing with Medjai warriors' children on his hands gliding on his flush cheeks. "How could this happen, Ardeth? Why did it have to happen?" Alex leaned in as his godfather wrapped him in a soothing embrace. The blonde head dropped wearily onto the robed shoulder, soaking the clothes with salty tears and sorrow.  
  
"It will be dealt with, my son, I promise you that. Your father was my brother, your mother, my sister. May Allah have mercy on those bastards' souls..." he whispered, placing a fatherly kiss on the mess of sandy hair. "I promise..."  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
"Damn!" Willow cursed quietly. {Spike! To your left! Behind the VanMaanan crypt!}   
  
She stood stop Spike's crypt, sending out messages like a cell phone satellite. {Giles, round up the others and go help Spike. He's seriously outnumbered.} Calling upon all the magicks at her disposal, she muttered, "Incinderae!" A vampire that had been climbing the wall of the crypt at her back burst into flames, falling onto the dewy grass, exploding into a shower of dust.  
  
She looked down to see Giles and the others, a fine coating of vamp dust covering their clothing and hair, looking appropriately dishevelled and exhausted. "Let's get you guys home. I'd like to do a little tweaking to the BuffyBot before I hit the hay."  
  
They each shot her looks of disbelief and annoyance and began trudging home. Willow jumped down from the crypt, floating the last couple of feet, landing easily in front of a tombstone.   
  
A pair of dark eyes watched the scene unfold from behind a tall, Gothic-looking tombstone. He stood as a small smile crept over his tattooed cheeks. "She looks like her mother."  
  
***** 


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
"In the New Year of Isis, one shall return,   
A harbinger of immortal sleep,  
To those that would destroy the Old Kingdom.  
She shall be the slayer among murderers,  
A rose of death, to protect  
The Old Kingdom for all eternity.  
One will rise; One for each New Year;  
One for each Evil."  
  
--circa 1978BC, translated by Evelyn O'Connell, 1942AD--  
  
*****  
  
"November 18, 1949  
  
It's been nearly five months since I wrote here last.  
  
We celebrated my 21st birthday today. Ardeth was bubbling over, running around making sure everyone was having a good time. Shels helped me open presents and made sure I always had someone to dance with. Uncle Jon's beginning to worry me, though. All he does is mope around. He misses Mom, I know he does; I do, too, but we've got to be strong for Shels. She'll be six in two months. Three months after that will be the anniversary of Mom and Dad's deaths.  
  
Ardeth kept his promise. They found the bandits that killed them. Mercilessly dealt with, according to Yonas, the man that took over Dad's post.  
  
It's not like fire on my skin, in my guts anymore. It's more like a warm, red light that I'm drawn to, like a moth. My agony is merely discomfort now. I miss them like Hell. Dad's laughter and games, Mom's wide eyes at the thought of a new artifact.  
  
I began going through Mom's trunks and tea chests last week. They're her legacy to me and Shels. There's tons of translations of ancient manuscripts and scrolls. Pictures of our grandparents. Pictures of Mom and Dad together, Mom and Jon together in London. The one of Dad and Ardeth in full Medjai dress, atop black Arabians, simitars at their sides, is my favorite. They remind me that I do come from a noble family and a noble heritage.  
  
Shels won't stay here; she'll go to University and be some great doctor or something. But my life is here. I will honor our father's memory by standing by my godfather's side, in full Medjai dress, atop a black Arabian, a simitar at my side.  
  
AO'C"  
  
*****  
  
"July 17, 2001  
  
I thought this was supposed to get easier.  
  
Tara's becoming impatient with me. With my now heavy-duty slaying duties, I guess I have been neglecting her. But she needs to see the bigger picture. I'm slaying, doing what Buffy died doing.  
  
Buffy.  
  
Goddess, it's still so hard to believe she's gone. I find myself dreaming more and more about her. It's like she's trying to tell me something. The dreams are so real; 'Reach out and touch someone' real.  
  
Anya's getting antsy again. She wants Giles to go back to England so she can have the store. Xander's making like Britain before WWII: 'policy of appeasement' guy.  
  
Poor Dawnie. She's missing Buffy so much now. She's enrolled in an art program for the summer, and her friend Aisha will be going with her, so that's of the good.  
  
I don't want Giles to leave... There's going to be a new Slayer, there has to be, and someone has to train her to live on the Hellmouth. That's Giles, and that's me, and that's the whole gang. We're needed. I just know we'll be needed.  
  
Willow"  
  
*****  
  
The shades were pulled back. The coffee/tea pot was running, bubbling softly. The cash register was ready with suitable change for any monetary possibility.  
  
The Magic Box was open for business on that bright Wednesday morning.  
  
Willow sat at the so-called "Round Table," thumbing through some volume-y text, with no real interest. Her thoughts wondered 'round the world, finally settling on some place in a desert with pyramids in the background. This is my idea of Egypt, she decided.  
  
Her mind took her into one of the pyramids. Through winding passages, down staircases, into an elaborately decorated ritual chamber. She murmured something about its beauty, the gold, the jewels. Her eyes roamed over the shining walls, resting on an inscription on the one farthest from her. She walked toward it, wanting to see the designs and heiroglyphs more closely.  
  
As she moved closer, a realization hit her: she could read the words, the ancient Egyptian incantation inscribed on the golden wall.  
  
A noise behind her caused her to whirl around to face a petite woman. Slightly taller than Willow, black hair, olive skin, very lovely by any time periods' standards. She spoke in ancient Egyptian, but Willow understood perfectly. "So, Isis, you've found your way home?" A perfectly mischievious smile crossed her features.  
  
Willow's mouth opened, thinking to respond in English, but she didn't. In the same dead language as the other woman, she replied, "No, my dear Anuk-su-namun, I've only come to protect what's mine. Protect what you would destroy." Willow looked down at her dress, noting the fine texture of the white linen, spun through with what could have been gold, her arms, ankles, and neck adorned with golden baubles and bangles, a veil of the fine cloth draped lightly over her fiery red hair.  
  
"Hah!" Anuk-su-namun laughed, launching herself at Willow, who began fighting visciously against her attacker.  
  
Her fist connected with Tara's jaw, and the blonde witch let out a pained yelp, falling onto the floor. Willow was shocked awake by the real-world contact. She stared helplessly at her girlfriend, lying on her back, nursing her reddened jaw. "What the Hell?! I was just trying t-to wake you up!"  
  
"Oh, God, Tara! I am so sorry! I was dreaming and I was attacked and I was trying to fight her off and I'm not helping..." Willow rambled, her brow furrowed deep in worry. She bent down to help Tara off the floor, only to have the blonde shy away from the touch at first, then accepting the helping hand.  
  
Anya slid behind the counter and grabbed the cooler, popping the top and retrieving an ice pack. "Buffy often needed them, and it didn't seem approptiate to remove them from the store," she explained softly. Willow gave her a grateful smile and held the pack to Tara's aching jaw. She hissed at the contact, then leaned in, sighing in relief and near-numbness.  
  
Willow closed her eyes, rubbing her palm over her face, her other hand wrapped around her midsection, playing with the seams on the side of her shirt.  
  
"Wha were you sthaying?" Tara asked around the soreness of her jaw, now spreading uncomfortably up her cheeks and down her neck. That punch must've had some magicks behind it, she thought.  
  
Willow looked up, and began to reply, stopping when she realized that she hadn't known how to speak anything except English before the daydream. No, a vision, she corrected herself, it has to be a vision. "Ancient Egyptian," she muttered.  
  
Tara's eyes widened then narrowed at the emerald-eyed witch. "You don't know Ancient Egyptian...do you?"  
  
Willow shook her head, "Not before today."   
  
"Tell me about this dream." She couldn't resist the challenge of interpreting Willow-brain flicks.  
  
"Vision," Willow corrected absently, staring at a stray ray of sunlight dancing along the wooden floor of the shop.  
  
"Fine. Vision. Tell me."  
  
***** 


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--1949--  
  
Alex tossed and turned restlessly, needing the elusive sleep more than ever. He'd been spending hours each day going through his mother and father's papers and journals. Finding some manuscripts and translations had proven a welcome distraction, but only for so long. He didn't know what to make of a lot of the documents, prophecies, curses, and historical accountings, but he knew they were important and that they needed to be kept for Sheila until she was older, when she'd want something of her parents to keep for herself.  
  
Finally deciding that sleep wasn't going to be an option tonight, Alex rose and wondered out into the night air. The warm breeze ruffled his hair and caressed his tired body. "If only..." he whispered.  
  
"If only what, Alex?" his godfather's voice came from behind him.  
  
"Couldn't sleep either, Ardeth?" the blonde youth asked, his lips quirking into a sardonic half-smile.  
  
The Medjai leader shook his head, his black curls dancing lightly around his strong features. "No, I have been thinking of Rick and Evelyn again. They were a part of my family. You and Sheila and Jonathan are so alone now; I miss them as much as you three do."  
  
Alex sighed sorrowfully and crossed his arms over his chest. "I know, Ardeth, I know. If only Sheila could grow up with her mom and dad around, like I did. They were the best parents anyone could've asked for, present company excluded."  
  
Ardeth chuckled softly, "No, they were the best, present company included."  
  
"If you say so, Old Man. I wanted to talk to you about something, and I guess now is as good a time as any." Alex shifted his weight, kicking slightly at the sand beneath his feet.  
  
"What is it, my son?" Ardeth laid a hand on his godson's arm and lead them to the still-burning fire to sit.  
  
"I know that Dad had finally accepted his place with the Medjai, and I have too. I want to train with you. I want to someday be able to take my dad's place by your side."  
  
Ardeth sat in silence, mulling over the boy's words, trying to decide what he should say. "I would be honored to have you by my side, Alex, but first you must make sure that this is truly what you want. A life in the desert is lonely, even surrounded by people."  
  
"How much lonelier can I get, Ardeth? I've lost my parents, and Shels won't stay. I know she's young, but I can't let her stay forever. Uncle Jon will want to go back to London eventually, and I'm going to talk to him about taking her with him. Having Sheila to take care of will be good for him, I think.   
  
"She'll be starting school soon. Hell, she should've started already. She will to go on to University, do something great and have a family. She'll take them far away from this desert and from Egypt," Alex ended his tirade and stared helplessly at his godfather.  
  
Ardeth was once again silent. He wanted Alex to stay and be one of the Medjai, but he also wanted the boy to be able to do all the things that he wanted for Sheila: schooling, a career, a family, a safe life away from danger. "If it is what you want, my son, I cannot stand in your way."  
  
Alex smiled sadly and pulled his surrogate father into a reassuring embrace. "It is, and thank you, Old Man."  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
Ardeth once again hid in the shadows, watching his goddaughter's daughter fight her way through a swarm of vampires. She was graceful, powerful, everything that would be expected of a warrior of Isis. Her eyes were voided black, her fingertips glowing and crackling with a magickal blue energy. She began a passage in Latin, a spell to vanquish the latest baddie.  
  
Somewhere near the end of the incantation, an apparition floated into her body, and her Latin switched to Ancient Egyptian.  
  
Her small frame floated and glowed a hot red, the energy still at her hands, now black and deadly. Her magick was violent, and the vampires whimpered and ran into themselves in vain efforts to get away. Any way a vampire would run, he was met with a wooden stake, courtesy of a member of the Scooby Gang.  
  
When all the vamps were just small piles of dust, Giles and the others noticed Willow. Her hair was being whipped around her face, as if some gale were doing the whipping, even on this calm night.  
  
Finally the red glow subsided, and she slumped to the ground. Tara was the first to reach her side, tears streaming from her bright blue eyes. "Willow?! Willow!!"  
  
Ardeth's heart clenched in his chest, and he knew it had begun. She was undoubtedly the Warrior Daughter of Isis.  
  
***** 


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
It had been three days since the "incident" in the graveyard. Everyone was walking on eggshells when dealing with Tara. Willow was still unconscious, and her blonde witch hadn't left her side.   
  
Giles had surmised that she had overdone it on the magicks, and the powers had overloaded her system. That explaination had flown with Xander and Dawn, and even Spike, but Anya was unconvinced.  
  
"You weren't looking at her when she went all red-light. Something unnatural took over. She wasn't Willow!" Anya said huffily. "You don't believe me! You don't believe the 1,100 year old demon who's seen everything and done everything at least once! Willow wasn't in control of her body and mind at that point."  
  
Everyone stared blankly at her. Giles' reasoning had been sound, and if it were any other day, Anya would've agreed, but not now.   
  
Xander stood and wrapped his arms around Anya's shaking frame. "Hon, it's not that we don't believe you. It's just that we know Wills has a tendency to overdo it sometimes. If she doesn't wake up today, then we'll try to find something for your theory." He kissed the top of her head as she nodded wearily. "Let's go home." He pulled back and cupped her face in his hands, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. Turning to the others, he smiled weakly, "We're gonna go home. Dawnie, you comin' with us?"  
  
Dawn stopped chewing nervously on her fingernails and nodded. "Yeah, lemme just get my bag."  
  
*****  
  
Willow stood, on what, she couldn't tell, seeing as there was no ground.  
  
A voice came out of the void, "Child, are you ready?"  
  
The red witch's heart stopped, then beat and clenched. "Yes, Mother, I am ready."  
  
"Let me show you the way."  
  
*****  
  
Tara laid one hand on Willow's head and the other on her own heart.   
  
"Show me," she whispered. Images, symbols, faces flew through her at an astonishing rate. She recognized a lot of them as Egyptian or Arabic, which compounded her fears. Finally, a backdrop to all of the previous information appeared. A shrine devoted to the goddess Isis. Only in this shrine, Isis was replaced by Willow, her red hair shimmering against the bright gold and beautiful linens and clothes.  
  
Two voices flowed from her mouth, one speaking the language of the ancients, flawless Egyptian, and the other English. "In the New Year of Isis, one shall return, a harbinger of immortal sleep, to those that would destroy the Old Kingdom. She shall be the slayer among murderers, a rose of death, to protect the Old Kingdom for all eternity. One will rise; One for each New Year; One for each Evil."  
  
Tara took her hand away from Willow's head and struggled to remember how to breathe. She had just seen Willow's destiny.  
  
*****  
  
Shakily, Tara decended the stairs of 1630 Revello Drive and faced the remaining members of the Scooby Gang.  
  
"How is she?" Giles asked. The look on her face sent the Englishman spiralling into a pit of darkness and worry.  
  
"She's still asleep, but I th-think she'll wake soon. Giles, what do you know about Isis and Egyptian lore?" she quarried.  
  
He looked at her, slightly startled by the question. "Well, not much really. She was the goddess of the day. She's associated with love, motherhood, eternal life, magick, among other things. Married to Osiris, bore Horus. Is that what you mean, Tara?"  
  
Her blonde hair shook loosely with her head. "No, I m-mean prophecies. About reincarnations of Isis, maybe."  
  
"No, not that I can recall. We can research the possibilty, though," Giles offered. Tara's questions made no sense, but if anyone knew how to help Willow, it was her.  
  
"Let's d-do it, then. I'll start looking in the volumes upstairs, and you can..." She was interrupted by a knock at the front door.  
  
Tara opened the door to reveal a tall, dark, handsome man, who looked to be in his late forties, early fifties. He had bluish tattoos on his cheeks and forehead. She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "Can I help you?" she asked timidly.  
  
"Yes, I'm looking for Miss Willow Anne Rosenberg. My name," he paused dramatically, "is Ardeth Bay. I am a friend of her mother's."  
  
Her eyes widened in worry. "I-is s-something wr-wrong with Mrs. Rosenberg?"  
  
"No, but I need to speak to Willow. Is she home?" The stranger appeared almost nervous.   
  
Giles moved behind Tara, placing a steady hand on her shoulder. "Why do you need to see Willow? Who are you?"  
  
"May I come in? I am not a vampire, I assure you." His full lips twisted into a half-smirk, willing Tara to trust him.  
  
Once inside, he began to speak again. "Willow's mother, Sheila, is my goddaughter. I need to speak with Willow about some... issues that need resolving with the tribes."  
  
"Tribes?" Giles asked, skeptically. He couldn't trust the man who showed up after Willow had been injured and needed to speak with her. "She incapacitated at the moment. She was injured in a fight three days ago."  
  
"And your theory is she overloaded on magicks, yes?" Ardeth prompted. At Giles' curt nod, he continued, "I know how to wake her, if you'll allow me."  
  
Tara turned teared blue eyes on Giles, silently begging him to allow it. When Giles sighed, signalling his acceptance, Tara said, "This way," and lead him up the stairs.  
  
***** 


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
Floating.  
  
That's what she'd been doing. Floating.  
  
Willow felt the ground come up to meet her, and her eyes flew open at the contact. Standing, she began to brush off her clothes, noting that they were the exact linens she'd been wearing in her vision.  
  
A figure appeared before her, suspended in the air, gleaming brightly with a blue, purple, and red aura. "Child, wake. Do not be afraid."  
  
Willow's eyes glimmered with excitement, her normally green orbs shining with a crimson power. She began to speak, confindently, with an air of familiarity, "Where am I, Isis?" Wait, she thought, how did I know that? How did I know who I'm speaking to?'  
  
"Good, my daughter, you know me. More than was hoped." Isis, or Willow's perception of her, whatever the case was, landed gently on the sandy floor. She walked to Willow and embraced the redhead, her arms strong and soothing. "Come, it's time for you to learn."  
  
As they walked, Isis lectured calmly about Egypt and some prophecy that Willow was supposedly a part of. Finally, upon reaching the large stone door at the end of the long hall, Isis turned and, choosing to use the language she was worshipped in, Egyptian, asked, "Do you understand me, child?"  
  
Willow nodded, letting the goddess' words flow through her. "I understand."  
  
Isis smiled and switched to Arabic, asking again if Willow understood. When the witch again nodded, the goddess went through the process with Hebrew, Latin, Greek, and Hieratic, and Willow understood perfectly each language, even the strange dialects Isis tested on her.  
  
"Good, my child, you are ready for the initiation." The door opened, revealing a shrine, very similar to the one from her vision. The brightness caused her to squint, her eyes slowly becoming used to the light.  
  
"Whoa, what is this place?" Willow asked, entranced by the unadulterated beauty of the room.  
  
"A holy temple. A shrine. And, child, speak in Egyptian here. This is a sacred place, as I'm sure I do not have to tell you," responded the goddess.  
  
Willow nodded, and began whispering an incantation in the preferred language of the goddess. When she finished, she turned to Isis. "What was that?"  
  
Isis smiled, "You recounted the prophecy of your origin. The one that foretells of your birth and rising." At Willow's widening eyes, she continued, "Come, there's much more to learn."  
  
Isis led her to a chair that seemed much more like a throne to Willow. "Sit."  
  
Willow did as she was told, and as soon as she had taken the seat, her head snapped back, her eyes closing, her mouth opening. She sighed, then screamed, the pain almost unbearable behind her eyes, like fire engulfing her brain.  
  
Images flooded her mind. Pictures of her mother and father, her uncle Alex, a man -- Ardeth Bay, her mind told her -- with dark skin and tattoos and jet black hair, her grandparents who had died long ago. It was like watching the film of her heritage in reverse. All the way back to the prophecy Isis spoke of, then back farther, to Nefertiri, Seti, Anuk-su-namun, Imhotep.  
  
When the images slowed and stopped, the pain began to ebb, and Willow found she could once again force her eyes to focus, she stared at Isis, tears welling up in her eyes.  
  
"What am I, Isis?" she sobbed.  
  
Isis came closer, again wrapping the redhead's small form in her arms. The goddess whispered comfortingly in her ear, "You are my daughter. The one who will fight for me when all others are inadequate. You are me, child."  
  
"I understand, Mother," Willow whispered around more sobs.  
  
A voice began chanting, low and soft at first, growing in intensity, echoing off the stone walls. "sOne, ih, me, me, nau, sOoin, ran, Willow!" Willow felt her grasp on this reality slipping. She looked up at Isis, who was fading into the backdrop, and cried, "No! What's happening?!"  
  
"It's time, my child, it's time for you to take your place." Isis leaned forward and placed a gentle, motherly kiss on Willow's lips. "Wake, my child."  
  
Willow sniffled and wiped absently at her eyes. "Yes, Mother."  
  
*****  
  
"sOne, ih, me, me, nau, sOoin, ran, Willow!" Ardeth chanted. He repeated the phrase three times, one hand on Willow's forehead, the other on her abdomen. Willow's eyes began fluttering, finally opening, settling on the stranger still touching her.  
  
Her eyes glittered a light red, and she spoke, the words coming out in Arabic. "Why are you here, Ardeth? What happened?"  
  
He smiled, responding in the same language, "I'm here to guide you, my child. The prophecy you learned? You are the Warrior Daughter of Isis."  
  
Her mouth fell open, her emerald-ruby eyes sparkling with wonder. She began giggling. "No! I'm not her! I'm not some reincarnation of Isis!" Her laughing subsided as tears fell from her eyes. Everything she had experienced was coming back. Her family, her purpose; it all played in brilliant technicolor. "No," she said in an anguished whisper, "No, I can't be."  
  
Ardeth tilted his head to one side. "Of course you are, daughter. Let's get you some water, and I will explain."  
  
***** 


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
At Willow's request, Giles phoned Xander and Anya, telling them to come back to the house. Dawn decided she was coming too, and there was going to be no talking her out of it.  
  
Once the three had arrived, Ardeth introduced himself and regaled the tale of the prophecy, how he'd come to be in Sunnydale, and who exactly he was in relation to Willow. When he finished, the group sat in quiet contemplation, trying to absorb all the information. "Whoa," Xander finally whispered. He slipped one arm around Anya's shoulders and the other around Dawn's. "So, what are you telling us, man?"  
  
"I am telling you that Willow has a singular destiny," the Arab began, "She is the one girl who can fight the Evil, whatever form it pleases to take."  
  
"So, she is Isis?" Tara asked, still trying to grasp the reincarnation aspect Ardeth spoke of. She gazed down, admiring the brilliant red hair in her lap. They were sitting on the couch, Willow curled into a fetal position, her head resting on Tara's lap.  
  
Ardeth nodded, "In a manner of speaking. She is still Willow; the Willow you love, the Willow Mr. Harris grew up with, but she is now something more. She is a warrior."  
  
Willow's eyes flew open, her emerald orbs crackled with blood red magick. "No! I am not a warrior! Buffy was a warrior! And look where it got her! She's dead, and she's never coming back!" She bolted from the room, dashing up the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her.  
  
Tara called after her and began to follow, but Ardeth's strong, but comforting hand on her arm stopped her. "No," he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper, "She must figure it out for herself. I only pray that she can... come to terms with it soon. We don't have much time." The blonde witch nodded and stepped back into the living room, only to be gathered into a hug by Xander. She felt her hold on her emotions slipping, and the tears fell, her body shaking with her cries.  
  
Dawn stood behind her, tracing slow, soothing circles on her back, whispering affirmations of friendship and kinship.  
  
Giles rose and walked toward Ardeth, leading him away from the group hug. "Willow's right. Buffy was a warrior. She died saving the world from being pulled into Hell. I would imagine that she fears the same will happen to her."  
  
Ardeth sighed, the tenuous grip on his own conflicting feelings giving way to the heartbreak of having to tell his granddaughter -- and for all intents and purposes, she was his granddaughter -- that she was, in her own right, a Slayer, the one girl destined to save the world from evil. "I know of the Vampire Slayer and the Watchers' Council. When you've been around as long as I have, you learn a few things, aquire ancient and forbidden knowledge.   
  
"But this is entirely different. While the Slayer is given her powers by the Powers that Be, Willow's powers come from a higher realm; they come from Isis herself. I have devoted my life to protect this world from the evils and curses of Egypt. And if Willow is part of that defense, my heart breaks, but duty must come before family. That is the way it has been since the time of the Phaorohs, and that's the way it will be after I am gone."  
  
"I understand where you're coming from, Ardeth, believe me, I do. As a Watcher, I was told the same things. From the day I turned 10, nothing was as important as honor, duty, and my responsibility to my Slayer. But living on the Hellmouth, watching the people I love go out, night after night, battle after battle, and die so-called 'honorable deaths,' I learned a few things: Family is far more important than that duty or honor." Giles took off his glasses, cleaning them with a handkerchief, and continued, replacing the frames on his face. "If Willow decides she must do this, we will help. She can't be asked to do this alone."  
  
Ardeth's eyes narrowed. This man was speaking as a father. How far deep did his feelings for these children run?  
  
Willow returned to the room and heard the last bit of the conversation. Reaching out with her mind, she picked up on a stray thought from Ardeth. Inwardly, she smiled at the irony of the thought. "He *is* the patriarch of the Slayerettes," she stepped in. She placed a loving hand on Giles's shoulder. "Most of us never really had much of a father figure. Mine was never around, Xander's was useless, Anya's have been dead for about a millenium, and Dawn and Buffy's left the country without a second thought. Giles *is* our father. They will go with me if they choose."  
  
Giles couldn't hide the pride painted clearly on his face. With tensions and emotions running so high, he had to fight to keep his eyes from welling up at the thought of Willow's declaration.  
  
The Medjai scrutinized the redhead, musing over her conviction. "Does this mean you will fight?" he asked in Arabic.  
  
The fire flickered in Willow's eyes once more, this time lighting and staying, a red ring around green pools. She turned to her friends and turned the conversation back to English. "I have to fight. I don't really see how I can refuse. I also can't ask any of you to come. I beg you to stay. I don't want to see you hurt or killed, but the choice is yours."  
  
Silence settled over the Scoobies as they took a moment to consider. Finally, Xander spoke up. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say, Avengers assemble!" The group broke out in loud proclamations of agreement.  
  
A grin spread over Willow's face and she ran into his arms. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes misting over at the knowledge of her friends' devotion.  
  
When she regained her composure, she turned to Ardeth, waiting a second before choosing to ask her question in Arabic. "I saw you with my grandparents and I know they died in 1949. Now, you don't look a day over 50. So, how old are you, Old Man?"  
  
Ardeth smiled. Allah, but she reminded him of Alex. The dear, sweet boy. "My child, I am 105 years old. 106 in four weeks."  
  
Willow's eyes danced with laughter. "Isis never told me that!"  
  
***** 


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--1955--  
  
The battle raged on into the night. After four days of fighting, Alex was growing weary of the carnage, and it showed in the lines and dirty smudges on his handsome face.  
  
When the land of Hamunaptra had been threatened, Ardeth sent out his men, determined to keep the lands safe from the Creature. Bandits and their raiding parties were dangerous enough, but, as he knew from experience, young girls with massive curiousity was perilous.  
  
His first approach, one that had been quite subtle for him, had failed miserably, and now, he had to fight.   
  
A princess from a small tribe in South Africa had learned of the treasures and magicks of the City of the Dead and wanted to understand and possess them. Anubria, as she was called, was deadly in her determination. And even without guns and horses, her men were fierce and relentless in their pursuit.  
  
Alex rose to move back to the front lines, loading his rifle as he went. The next wave of tribal warriors hit, and he fired, over and over.   
  
Darkness swept over the desert, and most of the warriors retreated to rest and tend to their wounded. However, one man managed to sneak close enough for one last shot with his arrows.  
  
His aim was true, striking Alex in the heart, propelling the fair-haired boy backwards. Ardeth didn't see the warrior until it was far too late. He fired his own weapon, killing the man instantly.  
  
In a flash, the Medjai leader was at his godson's side, cradling the boy's quaking body in his arms, silent tears running down his tattooed cheeks. "No!" he whispered, "my son, stay with me!"  
  
"I love you, Old Man. Make sure Sheila knows I died with honor. And tell her I love her with all my heart," he ground out around the pain. "Goodbye, Father." And with a groan of agony on his lips, he died.   
  
Ardeth's howl of anguish began low, deep in his gut, rising up into his throat, piercing the night air in its ferocity. His son was dead.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
Arrangements were made. As were the decisions of who was staying -- Dawn, Anya, and Tara -- and who was going -- Spike, Xander, and Giles. When the idea was posed of Spike's help in the matter, he was quick to remind them of his allergy to sun.  
  
"It's taken care of," Willow said. "I know a spell, and all the ingredients are upstairs. Come on. We'll take care of that now."  
  
Spike followed the witches up to their room. Willow poured a circle of sacred sand in the middle of the room and lit four candles, one for each element, with a wave of her hand. Instructing him to stand in the center, she placed one hand on his dead heart as Tara placed one on the back of his head.  
  
As a Latin incantation flowed from Willow's lips and her eyes voided black, a Greek chant came from Tara, who's voice became deep and husky, growing in volume, timbre, and intensity.  
  
A slow warmth spread through his veins, settling under their hands. His chest clenched as if caught in a vice, and his lungs began spasming, he gasped for breath. His heart was beating.  
  
When the witches finished their ritual, Spike slumped to the floor in a heap, still trying to adjust to the sensation of drawing breath for the first time in 122 years. "How?" he panted.  
  
"In order to help with the sun problem, we had to take away the part of the demon that couldn't handle it. That's the same part that stopped your heart," Willow explained, her eyes returning to the red-green they'd been before the spell.  
  
"And the chip?" he asked hopefully.  
  
"Dead, forever," Tara whispered.  
  
"Thank you," Spike said quietly in awe. Willow gave him a warm, trusting smile.  
  
"I don't think you'd try to eat us now. A year ago, yeah, but now things are different," she replied.  
  
The platinum vampire snorted in amusement, shaking his head, still reeling in wonder. He could feel the magick continuing its course through him. "We should get back downstairs."  
  
Willow shook her head. "Nope, I've got to pack."  
  
*****  
  
Brightly colored clothes flew around the room, sailing through the air, landing on chairs, the floor, the bed, and Tara. "Eek!" she cried.  
  
Willow poked her head out of the closet, trying to look sheepish, but not succeeding as she crumbled into a fit of laughter. "Tara! I'm sorry! I can't find anything suitable for the desert," she explained around her giggles.  
  
"I don't know. Ardeth might lend you some of his robes," the blonde witch teased.  
  
Willow imitated a viscious growl and strode toward Tara. Wrapping one arm around the girl's waist, the red witch pulled her into a searing kiss. Tara responded, moaning her desire into the kiss. Willow's fingers trailed up Tara's back, ellicting shivers from her.  
  
Willow gently pushed her to the bed, pinning her to the mattress, trailing fiery kisses down the blonde's throat. "I love you, Tara."  
  
"Mm, love you, Willow..."  
  
*****  
  
When the two lovers rejoined the group, Spike shot them a sly glance as he raised a scarred eyebrow; they smelled of magick, sex and each other, an intoxicating scent. He could feel his jeans growing a little tighter, and he shifted, hoping no one noticed.  
  
No one except Dawn really liked the idea of Spike being chipless, but they accepted it, knowing that he might have to fight humans on this little mission.  
  
"Well, I'm ready," Willow announced, breaking the tension that had sprung up with the talk of an un-neutered Spike.  
  
Ardeth brows inched up and an approving smirk spread across his features. "Good. We must get going, my child. Is everyone else ready?"  
  
A quick scan across the group told him that this was the most courageous unit of people he'd ever met.   
  
Xander turned to Anya, placing a kiss on her forehead. "I love you. Take care of Dawn." She smiled sadly, the unshed tears gleaming in her eyes. Nodding, she took his head in her hands and kissed him roughly. When she pulled away, Xander smiled, pressing his forehead to hers. "That's my girl."  
  
Tara came to stand next to the ex-demon. "W-we will."  
  
Willow's eyes began to water and she wrapped her girlfriend in a needy hug. She placed a quick kiss on her lips. "Take care of Amy, too." Her smile was sad, but still loving.  
  
Spike rose from his seat. "Well, as much as I hate to disrupt this touching moment, we should get going."  
  
Several goodbyes and minutes later, Spike's DeSoto sped out of the garage, the tires protesting loudly at his speed.  
  
***** 


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Author's notes: For the un-Buffied of my friends reading this, Joyce is Buffy and Dawn's mom.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
Two weeks.  
  
Two weeks of training, travelling, and researching. Willow didn't know whether to be totally amped or seriously exhausted. She stood, slammed her book shut, and stretched, her joints popping furiously in protest. A small moan escaped her lips, causing the bleached vampire to look up from his own reading.  
  
"Tired, Red?" he asked, his pale lips quirking into a smirk.  
  
The red witch shook her head. "Actually, I can't tell yet. My mind is wide awake, but my body wants to sleep." She sat on the floor and began stretching, trying to wake up her muscles.  
  
As she lowered her forehead toward her knee, Spike spoke up, "Well, maybe a bit of a toss will wake you up." Emerald-ruby eyes flashed dangerously at him, warning him to elaborate. "Oi! Get your mind outta the gutter, will ya? I mean a little fight. Sparring?"  
  
Willow's face stained crimson with embarrassment. "Sorry. I miss Tara," she explained weakly.   
  
Spike snorted and rose from his seat, taking a deep breath. "Wow, don't think I'll be gettin' used ta that anytime soon," he marvelled.  
  
"Let's see if we can get that blood pumping, shall we?" Willow smiled and nodded toward an open area stocked with training equipment. Spike grinned almost mischieviously and walked to stand on the mat. He bounced a little on the balls of his feet, taking up a fighting stance.   
  
"You gonna try some of that gung-ho mojo on me, pet?" he quipped, circling her. Her heart was racing, and it was singing to him. But the one thing that was missing from her was fear; she was ready for him, and she wasn't about to be intimidated.  
  
Willow internally called the powers of the Ancients to her aid and smiled. "Only if you don't mind." Her eyes took on their magick void. Behind her, she could feel the Medjai leader come into the room. Oh, so, he wanted a show, hmm? Well, she thought, I'll just have to give him one. "Let's go," she challenged.  
  
The pair circled for a while, tossing off uninteresting punches, searching for something to open up. Ardeth smiled slightly, they were quite evenly matched now. Secure in the knowledge that she wouldn't be hurt, he allowed his mind to drift. He sighed, the memories coming to the fore were no doubt painful, but he supposed they were reminders to watch out for this girl, this fragile warrior.  
  
*****  
  
--1955--  
  
Tears fell from his eyes. There was really no way to stop them. His son was dead.   
  
*"I love you, Old Man... Goodbye, Father..."*  
  
The words haunted him day and night. All his thoughts were of the fair-haired boy, his son, and all his dreams were spectres of his death.  
  
Ardeth took the torch from the priest and held it to the stack of wood. The pyre lit up, flames consumming the young body at the center. The clergyman, who had been called in from the Catholic church in Cairo, began a prayer in Latin, pleading for the boy's safe journey to Heaven.   
  
As the man droned on, Ardeth tossed a small pack into the flames; a pack containing letters from the Medjai leader to Alex, as well as Rick and Evie. His eyes blurred with more tears, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him.  
  
Over the next two weeks, the tribal army had been beaten and sent back to their princess, a defeated and truly sickly lot. Ardeth went about his own tribes' business, protecting the world from the evils of Egypt, but his heart wasn't in it.  
  
Without Alex by his side, he felt empty. Four months after the boy's death, Ardeth met a woman named Marika. She was dazzling with her smooth, pale skin, amythest eyes, and vibrant blonde hair. For Ardeth, it was love at first sight.  
  
Their courtship was quick, and within a year, she announced her pregnancy to the tribes. Elation would have been an understatement. The people had been worried about their leader. They knew he had not been himself since the death of young O'Connell.  
  
In late 1956, Marika gave birth to a girl. Her name was Joyce.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
Ardeth smiled sadly at the thought of his deceased daughter. Joyce had been a bright spot in his life, along with Marika.  
  
When he had received news of his daughter's death, and then his granddaughter's death, he grieved, but knowing of their unique futures gave him small comfort. Shortly before Joyce's death, images of another granddaughter seeped into his memory. She was like Buffy and Joyce, but she was also quite different. No blonde hair, no fire-ice blue eyes, but Dawn did have a powerful aura, glowing bright green against light bronze skin, brown hair and hazel eyes. He had wanted to say something to her while he was in Sunnydale, but didn't know where to begin.  
  
A visit to Joyce and Buffy's graves had provided him with insight into his current plight. He wasn't to tell her. She was to be important in the coming weeks, and any knowledge of her ancestory might damage her power.  
  
He shook his head, effectively clearing the thoughts away. No, if she was meant to be a part of this, why was she still in Sunnydale? She was meant for something else, then, he decided, turning his attention back to the sparring match.  
  
***** 


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Author's notes: There's something of a self-insert in here somewhere. Not so much, though.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
For a slip of a girl, Willow was holding her own against the bleached Master Vampire. Her hits were powerful with the channelled magickal energy flowing through her arms into her fists. For every physical punch he got past her protective shielding, she landed at least two astral blows.  
  
Blue, red, and green energy orbs flew aroudn the room, looking for openings in Spike's defenses. His newly-tanned skin glistened with sweat as he continued to circle her, the orbs casting their colored brilliance on back and arms.  
  
She propelled the spheres around in quick movements, effectively distracting her opponent. Knowing an opportunity when she saw one, Willow leapt forward, scarlet lightning flashing in her eyes. Her hands reached for Spike's, and she pulled them above his head as they tumbled to the floor. With her left hand still holding his wrists in place, her right hand forced his torso to stay on the mat, more of the red magickal energy pinning him to the ground.  
  
A triumphant smile curved her pale pink lips. "Ha! Pinned you, Spikey!" She giggled softly.  
  
One short, harsh clap from Ardeth's hands caused Willow's head to snap up; her onyx eyes trained on him, the feral, crimson light still glittering wildly. The Medjai leader quirked his head to one side, glancing rapidly at Spike. The red witch followed his line of sight as the blonde bucked his hips up, throwing her off balance. Her momentary confusion was just enough to allow him to repeat her actions, pulling her arms over her head, pushing her chest to the mat. He smirked, "Not so much with the pinning, eh, Red?"  
  
The magicks began fading from her eyes. She growled, "Okay, get off, Spike!"  
  
He shook his head, his blonde locks -- having grown an inch or two in the last few weeks -- danced lightly on his forehead. "Not until you tell me what you did wrong."  
  
She growled again; this was supremely irritating. "What? You caught me off-guard. That's all."  
  
Again, he shook his head. "No, you allowed yourself to be distracted. In the heat of the moment, you can't let that happen." He stood and reached for her hand, helping her to her feet.   
  
When she was standing and brushing herself off, Ardeth joined them on the mat. "He's right, child. You were distracted by my noise. And you let your guard down. Both are dangerous in battle. Remember."  
  
Willow's eyes narrowed in thought, then she nodded. "You're both right. I'll do better."  
  
The three talked technique for a while before being interrupted by Keturah, an extremely bright girl working on the research end of the mission. She bowed her head slightly and began speaking in Arabic. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Amir, Cauoipe, but there is something you should see."  
  
The trio exchanged perplexed glances before Ardeth motioned for the girl to lead the way. The tables were stockpiled with books and papers, manuscripts and translations. Keturah began rifling through them, digging out a tan leather bound book with Hieratic inscriptions on the cover and spine. "Here," she said, flipping the pages furiously. "Read this, Cauoipe. Doesn't this mean the Slayer that was your friend?"  
  
Willow took the book warily, glancing at Spike, who was confused, seeing as he neither spoke, nor understood Arabic. She turned her attention to the text, rapidly reading the paragraph Keturah's finger had pointed to.  
  
"When Isis has risen,   
The Golden Warrior shall return,  
With occult renewal, and   
Even through death, She shall fight her battles,  
She shall assist the defeat of the Evil."  
  
The red witch pivoted her head to stare at the young girl. "Why do you think this has to do with Buffy?" She could feel Spike tense at her side; it must have been the mention of the petite Slayer, Willow surmised.  
  
Keturah tilted her head to one side. "She had golden hair, and she has recently died, and she was a warrior, no?" Her brown eyes widened, looking innocent and shy in the possibility of a mistake.  
  
"You're quite right," Ardeth said. He turned to Willow, speaking in English. "She has a point, child. There has been a book discovered recently, filled with incantations and spells of resurrection. Maybe you are meant to bring her back," he finished.  
  
Willow's eyes grew large as his meaning sunk in. After a few minutes, her brow furrowed in determination. "Let's do it."  
  
***** 


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Author's notes: This chapter bounces around in location. From Earth to the Erthereal plains and back.  
  
AN2: I have borrowed some of the spell components from the Buffy S6 episode 'Bargaining,' written and directed by Joss Whedon.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
After working out the details of the spell, Willow, Ardeth, and Spike returned to Sunnydale. Willow had been worried about Xander and Giles, but in the end, they were elected to stay behind, in complete ignorance of the dark magickal plans that had been brewing.   
  
The night was silent as the trio trudged through the cemetary. It was a good night for waking the dead, Willow thought almost cynically.   
  
No one in Sunnydale was going to know they'd been there until it was too late, Willow had to make sure of that. Dawn and Tara would most definitely wig. The blonde witch would berate her for using such powerful forces without a second, without someone to keep her grounded.  
  
Willow knew she couldn't have a medium on this one; it was a test. A test of her magickal abilities, a test of her strength, a test of her soul, and she had to go it alone. Sure, Spike and Ardeth would be there, but they had their own forces to channel.   
  
She shook off her obstructing thoughts; she needed to be concentrating and attuning for the ritual. Straightening her lily white ritual gown, she turned her mind to images of the goddess Isis and her protection and power.  
  
*****  
  
Golden blonde flashed across the sky, racing toward the one person who would -- who could -- stop this. She was happy here; she didn't want to leave.  
  
They couldn't make her.  
  
*****  
  
The red witch knelt in front of the grave, kissing and pressing her fingertips gently to the marble. She reached for her bag and began laying out the supplies for the spell. Lighting a candle with a wave of her hand, she gave it to Ardeth, instructing him to kneel to the left of the grave. She repeated the action with Spike, placing him to the right.   
  
Her hands were trembling as she poured sacred sand from Hamunaptra in straight lines over the ground, murmuring blessing incantations and prayers to Isis while she worked. When she finished, the earth looked like a large tic-tac-toe board, she mused absently.   
  
She looked wiltingly, hopefully, at Ardeth, who bowed his head slightly and smiled. One brief look at Spike, and she signalled the beginning of the ritual with a sharp, curt nod of her head. The Medjai began chanting in Hieratic, Spike in Egyptian. Willow gathered all her strength and courage and spoke, "Osiris! Hear my call! Here lies the warrior of the people! Open the underworld! Let her come forth!" Her shouts were crystal clear in the silent night air, and the ferocity and conviction of her tone would have made the most seasoned sorcerer whimper.   
  
*****  
  
"What do you want, Slayer?" a deep voice boomed from atop the mile-high pedestal.  
  
"Don't let them do this!" she cried. "I can't go back! Another Slayer's been called already! They don't need me! Stop them!" Her tears ran down her face, dropping onto the bone-colored linens wrapped around her slender form.  
  
*****  
  
Willow placed her hand in a bowl, dipping her fingers in the red liquid, and spread the substance in lines on her forehead, cheeks, and chin. Her jaw clinched, and the fear and subtle determination rolled off her in waves, calling to Spike's vampiric senses. His demonic visage slid over his human face, and he growled low in his throat.  
  
*****  
  
"It won't be stopped, Slayer. Prepare yourself."  
  
The voice was like a death-knell to her. Her sobs pierced the Heavens.  
  
She could feel it beginning. Her friends; she thought they were her friends. "No! I hate you! Don't do this!" she screamed, knowing the Warrior Daughter of Isis couldn't hear her.  
  
"No! Let go of me! I won't go!"  
  
She went anyway.  
  
*****  
  
Willow turned her blood-stained face to him and snarled in turn. She flung her head back to stare up into the night sky, grinding out more of the spell. "Anubis! Here my call! Here lies the warrior of the people! Judge her worthy! Let her come forth!" As she said the last word, the ground began to shake, Spike and Ardeth nearly toppling over in the movement. Willow stayed upright, her arms trembling at her sides, her body convulsing. She opened her mouth to scream. "Let her come forth!"   
  
Her small frame twinkled a bright, blood red, the glimmer rising in intensity as she rose from the ground. Within moments, Willow was floating, her toes barely inches from the grass. "Let her come forth!" she growled, her blackened irises crackling with dark, sinister flashes of the red lightning.  
  
*****  
  
That was that. Reborn. Reborn to fight. Reborn to die.   
  
*****  
  
Slowly, the forces faded from her body, leaving her weak, hanging limply in the air. She crumpled to the ground, and Spike raced to her side, followed closely by a very astonished Ardeth.  
  
The Arab reached out to touch her, only to be stopped by the bleached vampire still sporting his game-face. "Did you know this child was so powerful, William?" he asked, worry painted across his handsome face.  
  
"She's not. She wasn't. Her and the blonde one are, but not alone," replied Spike. His heart was racing so fast he was sure it was going to fly out of his chest. A thought hit him as he allowed his human features to slip back into place. "How are we supposed to know if it worked?"  
  
"Like this," Willow said, in a voice not her own; it was darker, laced with gravel. She stood quickly, walking to Buffy's grave. Waving her hands in what looked like random patterns, she wailed out another occult incantation. "She who is buried in the Earth, now arise. Rejoin the living. Walk amongst us again!" A wave of rainbow-reds flashed out from the grave, throwing Willow, Spike and Ardeth back twenty feet from the flash point.  
  
When Spike regained his senses and looked up, what he saw almost terrified him.  
  
There she sat, clothed in the swadling wrappings of The First Slayer, shaking slighly against the cool air, her blonde hair hanging down in her eyes, playing lightly on her knees. Buffy raised her head, tilting it to one side. "Where am I?"  
  
*****  
  
tbc... 


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
Buffy's blue eyes widened as she stared at Spike. "Where am I?" she muttered. Her eyelids fluttered, and she toppled over, unconscious. The bleach vampire raced to her limp form. He reached out a shaking hand to check her pulse. He could hear it, but his senses begged him to check anyway. Strong and racing, but slowly calming.   
  
He turned back to face Ardeth, who was gathering Willow into his arms. "We need to get them inside," he said, his voice wavering under the strain.  
  
Spike nodded, thinking. There was no way they could care for the girls in his crypt, but they couldn't take them to Buffy's house. "Willow's mum's house isn't far. We'll go there," he announced. The Medjai told him to lead the way, and Spike lifted Buffy from the ground and headed to the waiting DeSoto.  
  
The short ride to the Rosenberg's was silent. Spike was uncharacteristically careful in his driving with Ardeth turning around every few seconds to check on the sleeping girls in the back seat.  
  
When they arrived, Spike was surprised to find the elder Rosenbergs at home. "Damn, this complicates things," he muttered.  
  
Ardeth shook his head calmly, ignoring Spike's icy glare of suspicion. "No, Sheila will not turn us away." He gently propped Willow up against the doorframe and knocked. Within a few moments, Sheila's tired face appeared at the window. The semi-pleasant shock etched in her strong features almost warmed Ardeth's heart, and she opened the door.  
  
"Ardeth?" she whispered. "What the Hell are you doing here? And who is he?" She motioned loosely to Spike, who still held a sleeping Buffy.  
  
The Arab smiled listlessly at her. "All questions will be answered, my daughter, but for now, we need to get these girls some care." Sheila's complextion paled visably when she saw Willow's lax body leaned against Ardeth.  
  
She nodded and retreated slightly into the house. "Come in," she mumbled. Her red hair flew behind her as she ran up the stairs to wake her husband. "Ira!" Her voice carried all the panic Spike had felt when he'd seen Willow slump to the ground in the cemetary.  
  
The red witch began moving restlessly in Ardeth's grasp, her eyelids batting lightly and opening to reveal her normal bright emerald gaze. No trace of the ruby-red fire remained in the wide, curious orbs. He set her gently in a large, overstuffed recliner, while Spike laid Buffy on the matching sofa.  
  
The vampire brushed strands of blonde from her face, placing a soft pillow beneath her head. He grabbed a soft, woven throw and draped it over her now shivering body.  
  
Finally, Willow found the strength to voice the question of their location. Ardeth shushed her, telling her to rest. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.  
  
Sheila heard her daughter's weak voice from the bottom of the stairs and bolted into the living room. "What happened to her? What happened to Bunny?"  
  
At the mispronunciation of Buffy's name, Spike snarled softly. Willow's eyes flew open, glaring drowsily at her mother. She then turned a wilting gaze on Ardeth, silently asking why he brought her there. She gave voice to her question in Arabic. Kneeling in front of her, Ardeth answered, "There was no place else, my child. Rest now. Please."  
  
He stood facing Sheila. "Come, daughter. I will tell you while we prepare something to drink, all right?" She nodded weakly, allowing him to lead her to the kitchen.  
  
*****  
  
Sheila was accepting of the Medjai's explanation. As far as she knew, Ardeth had come to Sunnydale to check up on his family, and he had come across the pair of girls struggling against a couple of attackers. He explained that, from what he could tell, the girls were coming from some sort of a costume party when they'd been attacked. Spike just happened along the scene and helped Ardeth rescue them.  
  
They returned to the living room to find Buffy sitting up, tears gleaming in her bright sapphire eyes, staining her flushed cheeks. "What have you done?" she moaned in a half-whisper.  
  
Willow sat next to her, an arm draped around the Slayer's slight form. "There was no other choice, Buffy. I hope you can understand that."  
  
Buffy's face turned to Willow, and she glared almost hatefully. "There's always another choice, Wills! Always!" Sobs racked her body until she was too weak to even sit up, and she allowed herself to slump back into the plush cushions. Willow stood, her own eyes now bright with unshead tears. Spike cast a weary glance to the redhead, then moving to help the Slayer lie back down, covering her with the blanket again.  
  
The Warrior Daughter of Isis turned to Ardeth. "What have I done?"  
  
*****  
  
tbc... 


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
Buffy's transition into the world of the living was perilous to say the very least. Her moods were wildly unpredictable. She was fine one moment, a raving madwoman the next. Throughout her manic swings, Spike stayed by her side.  
  
One week after the ritual, a week of hiding out in the Rosenberg home, Willow and Ardeth decided it was time to return to Egypt. Buffy was strong enough to travel now, and Spike was ready to be rid of Sunnyhell again.   
  
Sheila had wanted to return with them. "I can help, Ardeth. Let me help. Let me help my daughter."   
  
Ardeth shook his head. "No, Sheila. It is far too dangerous."  
  
"But you'll send my child -- my only child -- into battle?!" Willow was honestly and pleasantly surprised by her mother's vehemenance. Sheila had never really taken an active role in Willow's life, and truth be told, the redhead kind of resented her mother and father because of it.  
  
Ardeth's calming, soothing tone finally talked Sheila out of coming. He swore on his honor -- no light promise, that is -- that Willow would return safely to Sunnydale after she had fullfilled her destiny.  
  
So, with a minimum of other problems, the quartet went back to Egypt, only to find the decimation of their research and training post. Willow's heart broke as Ardeth stared unseeing, unbelieving at the broken walls of the building. Spike's blood boiled in fury. "No!" he shouted. "This is not how it's supposed ta happen!"  
  
"Keturah? Ishmael? Mohammed? All of them?" Willow gasped, her lungs refusing to work properly.   
  
A hawk flew over head, signalling its presence with an ear-piercing caw. Ardeth's head snapped up from his grieving to search the skies for the bird. It circled once and landed on his outstretched arm. Around its ankle, a tiny, silver cylinder hung out of its way. Ardeth unrolled a small slip of paper from the cylinder, and his eyes brightened, a smile crawling across his wearied face.  
  
"They've had casualties, but they've gone back to camp. That's where they are!" he cried triumphantly.  
  
Willow whooped loudly, jumping into Ardeth's arms, upsetting the bird. It flew away, huffily cawing its displeasure.  
  
Buffy looked around at the relief on all of her companions' faces and crinkled her nose. "Um, guys? Can someone explain what's going on?"  
  
*****  
  
They made good time across the desert, reaching the camp only an hour after sundown. Willow was elated to find most of the texts still in one piece, as well as her team of researchers unscathed, for the most part.  
  
Keturah hugged Willow tightly. "I am so glad you are here, Cauopie! I was so afraid!"  
  
The redhead smiled. Keturah reminded Willow so much of herself at that age; shy, yet capable of great courage. No wonder Giles liked the girl so well. Xander and Giles both received bone-crushing embraces from the red wiccan, her relief at their safety was palpable.  
  
"What happened?" Ardeth asked. Everyone piped up, each telling their unique version of events. He began sorting through them as best he could. Willow smiled and grabbed Keturah's arm, leading her to a quiter area. Buffy didn't know where to be, so she followed Willow.  
  
Keturah made some tea for the Slayer and her mistress. She sat down and began recalling the events, enraptured by Willow's patience and interest. "There was a woman. She was very lovely with black hair and dark skin. A bald man was with her. He was quite handsome. They had many, many warriors with them. I cannot bear to think of what would have happened if our soldiers had not seen them coming!"  
  
Willow's eyes darkened in anger. How dare they! she thought, They come for me and try to kill my people!   
  
"Cauopie? Are you okay?"  
  
At Keturah's soft, questioning tone, Willow snapped out of her rage-induced trance. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just really pissed off."   
  
The Arab girl blushed and giggled at Willow's curse. "Should I go get Ardeth?" she asked quietly. The redhead nodded once, and Keturah bowed, exiting quickly.  
  
"Wills? What's going on?" Buffy inquired. "And why can you speak Arabic?"  
  
Willow looked up. "Oh, it was part of the initiation Ardeth and Spike told you about." The details of the prophecy and the Slayer's resurrection just flowed from her mouth. She'd been bottling all of it up for weeks now, and Buffy was just the person she needed to talk to. "I don't regret bringing you back, Buffy. I need you. Spike needs you."  
  
Buffy held up one small hand, effectively stopping the Willow-babble. "No, I understand. Wills, as much as I hate this, I'm needed here. I need to help you fight."   
  
Willow was shocked at the Slayer's acceptance and willingness to help. She leapt out of her seat and enveloped her friend in a tight hug. "Thank you, Buffy."  
  
Ardeth stood silently in the doorway, waiting for a good moment to interrupt the tender exchange. He cleared his throat, calling both girls' attention. "Keturah said you needed to speak with me."  
  
"Yes," Willow began, "I know who attacked the post."  
  
Ardeth nodded, "As do I."  
  
Soulful brown eyes met dangerous green. "Anuk-su-namun and Imhotep."  
  
***** 


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--1974--  
  
Ardeth stood in the entryway, watching his wife and daughter intently. They were beauty personified, their bright eyes dancing in wonder at their treasures. They looked like children at a fair, playfully arguing over who won the biggest prizes. In Joyce's lap laid a book, an old one if looks could be trusted. Marika was sitting in a chair, her blonde hair hanging in her face as she poured over her papers.  
  
"Are you sure?" Marika asked. "That can't be right!" Her blue-violet eyes squinted at her daughter. The pair had unearthed a new relic and were now trying to translate it, from what Ardeth could tell.   
  
Joyce was eighteen and had her mind set on going to school in America. She was going to major in Ancient History, then return to Egypt and run the Museum of Antiquities in Cairo. Her parents couldn't have been prouder. "It's right, Mom! I swear! Here," she jumped up, setting the book in front of her mother, "Look, that's 'desert' and that's 'rose.' I'm not wrong, Mom."  
  
Marika's eyes narrowed, then widened, shock written plainly on her beautiful face. Her head came up to stare at Ardeth. "Habibi," she whispered. Glancing at Joyce, she cleared her throat. "Honey, I need to speak to your father. Can you go get us something to drink? Some coffee maybe?"  
  
Joyce scrutinized her mother for a moment before stepping out of their tent, setting about her task of getting coffee.  
  
"Beloved? What's the matter?" asked Ardeth. He knelt before her, placing a gentle hand on her knee; his other hand came up to stroke her cheek lightly.  
  
"Read this," she whispered almost hoarsely. He took it, standing, and he paced around.  
  
"The Undead shall arise;  
The Warrior shall be called;  
The Rose of the Desert shall rejoin;  
Anubis shall judge her worthy, and  
The Golden One shall come forth.  
All in the Year of Isis,  
The year of life, the year of death,  
All in the Year of Isis."  
  
His heart stopped. The world around him spun. "The Creature..." he choked.  
  
"'All in the Year of Isis.' That's 2001, Ardeth. And we don't even have a clue as to what these other things are!" Marika threw her hands in the air, collapsing back into her chair as a single frustrated tear rolled down her pale skin.   
  
The Medjai laid the paper gently on the table, and knelt before his distraught wife once again. "We will find out. We must keep the lands safe for our daughter," he reasoned.   
  
A spark lit in her eyes. "Damn right, we do!"  
  
*****  
  
Joyce listened to the conversation from outside the tent. 'The Creature?' She searched her memory for some reference to this creature her father obviously feared.  
  
She watched her parents embrace, their arms holding the other closely, and she realized how very much they cared for one another. 'I can't let anything destroy that. I hope I'll know that kind of love someday.'  
  
Her mother's new attitude was infectious, and Joyce could feel herself becoming bolder. That's when the realization hit her. 'The Creature... Imhotep! No! He's dead! Daddy destroyed him long ago!' Her knees wobbled, and she struggled to maintain her balance.   
  
Suddenly she was glad her parents had always been so honest with her. They'd never hidden anything from her. She knew about Rick and Evie and Alex and even Sheila. She'd met even Jon once, when she was very young, before he died. The knowledge of her father's true age and nature of existence had troubled her for a long time, but she'd finally come to accept it.  
  
Now there was a chance that she might have helped make one of the biggest discoveries of all time, and that discovery might destroy the world. 'Damn, being a teenager sucks!'  
  
*****  
  
"September 18, 1978  
  
Dearest Mother and Father,  
  
How are you doing? I hope you are both well. I miss you terribly. However, I'm sure I will get used to it. See, I'm writing to share my newest, most joyous news. I have met a young man named Hank. We've been dating for a few months, and a few nights ago, he asked me to marry him. I said yes!   
  
Oh, I cannot tell you how happy I am, Mom and Dad! We've planned for a November wedding. Maybe November 29th. His family lives in California, so we want to have the wedding here. You'll love it on the west coast, Mom. It's pleasantly sunny and so beautiful. Dad, I can't wait to see you in a tuxedo. I know you'll look very handsome.  
  
Well, I must close for now. I will make arrangements for you to travel soon.  
  
All my love to you and the tribes,  
Joyce"  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
Buffy rummaged through the ancient chest, searching for the book Willow had asked her to find. Her hand brushed something leathery, and she snapped it up, assuming it was her target.   
  
Curiosity got the best of her, and she opened it. Inside, she found letters addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Ardeth and Marika Bay. The return address on most of the envelopes read Mrs. Joyce Summers.  
  
***** 


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2000--  
  
Daniel Archem smiled at the reflection in the steamy mirror. His long white-blonde hair was pulled back into a loose braid at the nape of his neck, hanging almost to his waist. He wrapped a towel around his hips and sauntered out of the hotel bathroom.   
  
Strewn across the desk were ancient papers and parchments, as well as a collection of books that, despite their excellent condition, were as old, if not older than the papers. His smile was decidedly evil as he surveyed his work.  
  
"Mine, all mine for the taking," he said, a horrific cackle playing on his lips. "Now, what to do with my new toys."  
  
Three years ago, Daniel and his wife, Alisha, had been on a dig in Thebes when they'd found a carefully wrapped and preserved sheet of papyrus. He'd spent months translating it. As he neared the end of the work, Alisha was killed in a mysterious car accident. Further investigation revealed that the break line on her car had been cut. Someone had killed her.  
  
Her death sent Daniel on a downward spiral, his nerves frayed and his will to live drained. His grief was inconceivably violent. After spending eighteen months in a mental hospital, he was still grieving. Only now, his pain had become anger, a need for vengeance. He'd been visited by a couple of Justice Demons and turned them down; he needed his own vengeance, not some magickal bottled demon version.  
  
He completed his translations and made his plans. He would raise them. Destroy the people that had destroyed his love, and the world along with them.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
"Imhotep." Daniel stood, staring in awe at the bald man before him. His spells and charms and plans had worked.   
  
"What do you want?!" Imohtep thundered.   
  
"I want what you want, my lord. To be reunited with the love of my life. I will help you restore Anuk-su-namun and destroy this accursed world." Daniel's eyes shimmered a dark blue, the glint in them more evil than any demon, vampire or Hellmouth beastie. Sunnydale's evil was Mickey Mouse compared to the duo occupying the small ritual room.  
  
Imhotep visibly tensed. "She is dead. She was weak."  
  
Daniel glared at him. "She loved you. Her fear was overwhelming most likely. Instinct is powerful, no?"  
  
The priest's shoulders slumped. He still loved her and wanted to be with her. Any reason for why he was willing to forgive her so quickly was quelled by his anger and hurt. But his heart was not ready to let go. "I need her. We will raise her."  
  
*****  
  
Buffy's eyes misted, her fingers shaking as she opened the first letter. She read it twice, recognizing the handwriting and voice of the writer. "Mom," her voice came out in a hoarse whisper. In the letters, she called Ardeth and Marika Mom and Dad, she talked about her studies in some, her engagement to Hank, her pregnancies with Buffy and Dawn, and then the divorce. Buffy's chest tightened as she sobbed, careful not to get the pages wet.  
  
"Buffy? Are you in here? Did the books attack you?" Willow's tone was laced with good-natured mirth, but Buffy couldn't bring herself to move. She clutched idly at the letters, staring at them in some form of shock she couldn't place.   
  
The redheaded witch knelt at Buffy's side as she heard her whisper something unintellegible. Willow glanced at the papers in the Slayer's hands, reading the names and dates. "Joyce was Ardeth's daughter?"  
  
*****  
  
After picking Buffy up off the floor and getting her to a bed, Willow went in search of the Medjai leader. She found him sitting at a desk, reading over some of her work from earlier in the day. The letters left her hand and landed noisily on the desk. His head snapped up to glare at her softly.  
  
She took a focusing, cleansing breath and exhaled slowly. "When were you going to tell me, Ardeth?" Her Arabic words came out far harsher than she'd intended.  
  
His brown eyes closed as he leaned back in his chair. "Joyce and her mother were my life. Marika's death was expected; she was quite old. My daughter's was a shock. I hurt unbearably, I still do. I cannot share my granddaughters' pain; they are far too fragile."  
  
"But that doesn't explain why you didn't tell me," she snapped. Her eyes lit with red fire that blazed its way around her emerald irises.  
  
"I couldn't. Would you have kept it from Buffy or Dawn?" asked the Arab, his face questioning and tired.  
  
"No, I would've told them. They deserve to know!" Willow yelled. "Now Buffy's catatonic again, and it's your fault. You're going to have to help me snap her out of it. It barely worked the first time, and I don't know if I can do it again, or whether she's strong enough. But I need her to help me fight this evil. There's never been anything that I couldn't do without her support and friendship, and I'm not about to do this alone, damn it."  
  
Ardeth bowed his head. "What do you need to bring her back?"  
  
***** 


	15. Chapter 15

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
Willow sat on the edge of Buffy's bed, watching her friend stare fixedly at the ceiling. A silent tear rolled down the redhead's pale cheek. "I'm sorry, Buffy. You didn't deserve to find out this way. I swear I didn't know!" she whispered hoarsely. Willow sensed Ardeth's presence and turned to face him. "Have you got it?"  
  
He held up a small bundle. She could see his trembling; he was worried and upset. Good, she thought, he should be damn worried. I barely got her back last time, and I don't know how she'll recover this go-round. He handed the package to her, and she began unwrapping it. Inside lay two bundles of herbs, sage and jasmine, and four small beeswax candles. She nodded thoughtfully, surveying her supplies. "I still need the amythest."  
  
The Medjai dug the small violet stone out of a pocket and handed it to her. She scrutinized it before placing it with the other materials. "Good. Let's get to work."  
  
Willow set two candles on either side of Buffy and lit them quickly without a match. She laid the amythest on Buffy's forehead, blessing it with a quiet prayer. The scent of burning sage and jasmine wafted through the room as Willow laid them gently on stone plates between the candles at Buffy's sides. She then told Ardeth to stand behind her and keep his hands on her shoulders; he was supposed to keep her grounded in the physical world, keep her from floating away, forever trapped the astral of Buffy's mind.  
  
The red witch placed her hands on the blonde's cheeks and closed her eyes, taking deep meaningful breaths. And she was walking up the stairs. Endless stairs. All the way up. She looked behind her and saw a group of people, a middle-aged bald guy, a white-blonde haired woman, a black boy, and a Chinese girl. What an odd assortment, she thought, then shrugged and headed back up the stairs. Finally, she came to a landing with what looked like a bungee cord hanging down. To her left and right were more flights of stairs, and the only access to either was the bright yellow cord. She turned around and faced the followers, asking what she should do.   
  
The bald man shuddered and said, "You go first, witch." Willow glared at his words as they flowed out of his mouth, glowing an angry red, and grabbed hold of the cord. She swung out onto the stairs at her right, landing gently on the cement, feeling the cold under her bare feet. Smiling, she pushed the rope back to the group, and the black boy caught it, preparing to follow her. The bald man placed a large, calloused hand on his shoulder, holding him back. "No, Keenen, do not follow her. She is not of us."  
  
The group turned around and headed back the way they had come, leaving a thoroughly bewildered Willow in their wake. Deciding that she must press on without the group, she descended the stairs until she came to another landing. She saw a window and stuck her head out of it. There was an old fire escape that only went up. "Good idea," she muttered.  
  
She climbed out onto the fire escape and began another upward journey. Finally, she reached the roof of what seemed to be a twelve story building. The roof was padded with a soft baby's blanket with pink and blue balloons on it. There was a cabinet and a closet, and it looked like someone's bedroom, very comfy and cozy.  
  
She ran to the door at the far end of the room and opened it. Whatever the size the door was, the doorway was three times smaller. Willow managed to squeeze in, just barely, and she brushed off her jeans as she stood. This new room was red and hot. The temperature must be 110 degrees in here! thought Willow. On the floor in the middle of the room sat Buffy, her legs crossed, her eyes closed.  
  
Willow stood speechless for a few moments, then she finally found her voice and asked the Slayer what she was doing. Buffy opened her eyes, but remained silent. Joyce materialized behind her daughter, placing gentle hands on Buffy's shoulders. "She is home. She is safe here. My father can't hurt her with deception here," the elder Summers hissed angrily.   
  
Dawn's brilliant green form appeared at her mother's left. "Leave this place, witch! Don't come back!" she boomed in a voice that was most certainly not her own. This voice was dark and seriously pissed off, whereas Dawn's was usually light and easy-going.  
  
Willow's emerald eyes sparkled with tears and crimson magick. "I need her, Joyce, Dawn. She has to help me fight."  
  
"No!" the three Summers women bellowed in unison. "She cannot go with you! She belongs here with us!"  
  
The redhead's patience grew thin after about an hour of fighting the Summers in stereo. "Inciderae!" she screamed at them, enjoying as Joyce and Dawn turned to ashes on either side of Buffy. The Slayer's eyes snapped open, ocean-blue meeting deep green in a moment of desperation.  
  
And she was back, sitting at Buffy's side, coughing and sputtering, thanking Ardeth with a nod as he handed her a glass of water. The blonde's eyes filled with tears as she caught a glimpse of the Arab. "You should have said something, Ardeth. I would have understood, Grandfather."  
  
The Medjai's own soulful brown eyes began to water, taking her hand and kissing the soft palm. "I am sorry, my child. But it is good to have you back."  
  
*****  
  
tbc... 


	16. Chapter 16

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
Daniel Archem smiled an evil smile. They would pay, they would all pay for his injustice. His smile widened even further, garnering a raised eyebrow from Imhotep.  
  
"What are you smiling about?" the priest asked incredulously. Daniel's only response was a short, harsh laugh. Imhotep wrapped a protective arm around Anuk-su-namun's waist as he continued to stare at the grinning fool in front of him.  
  
"Maybe he has gone mad," the dark woman suggested.  
  
"We could not get that lucky." The duo turned away from Daniel to stare out into the sleeping city of Cairo. "All this shall be yours, my love. To rule, to play, to torture if you wish. Only for you."  
  
"How wonderful!" she smiled and clapped her hands once. Her eyes glittered a dangerous gold for a moment, then returned to their normal deep brown as she pulled Imhotep in to a searing kiss. He picked her up, carrying her to their room, leaving a still grinning Daniel in their wake.  
  
*****  
  
Buffy sat cross-legged in the middle of her bed, her hands clasped in Ardeth's. "I still don't understand, Ardeth. Why couldn't you tell me?"  
  
"Why do you think your mother never told you? She did not want this life for you. As I told Willow's Uncle Alex, a life in the desert is lonely, even when you are surrounded by people." His smile was sad, but genuine. "I would love to be able to spend some time with you and Dawn, but only after this is finished. The task is far more important than my need for a relationship with my granddaughters."  
  
Buffy's blonde hair blew softly in the night breeze through her window. She nodded and smiled up at him. "I understand. Dawn was too important to me. I couldn't just let her die." Ardeth began feeling tears prickle in his eyes as Buffy told him the story of the Key and of Glory. "I couldn't just leave the portal open, no matter how much I wanted to live. Death is my gift, remember?" She smiled around her own tears and threw her arms around her grandfather. "I barely know you, and already I love you. You were probably a great dad, huh?"  
  
The Medjai smiled. "If love is all that is required to be a 'great dad,' then yes, I was. I loved Joyce and her mother dearly and without reservation. And I love you, too, my child."  
  
Willow stepped in and cleared her throat, hating to interrupt the blissful scene. "We've got to get moving if we're going to find them before dawn."  
  
The petite Slayer rose from her place on the bed and wrapped her arms around her best friend in a bracing hug. "Thanks for bringing me back again. I love you, Wills. You're the best friend a Slayer could ever hope for."  
  
Willow grinned, her face flushing a bright, rosy pink. "Good to know. Air, need air..." Buffy loosened her grip without letting her go.  
  
*****  
  
"Amir! We have found them!" A breathless young man ran up to Ardeth's horse and was greeted by Keturah who had a drink of much needed water for him. "Thank you, Keturah. They are in the city!"  
  
"Cairo?" Willow asked. She couldn't believe that they would willingly stay in the city. She was right.  
  
"No, Cauoipe, Hamunaptra. They have returned to the City of the Dead!" the boy said excitedly. Ardeth put a calming hand on the boy's shoulder. "Sorry, Amir. I am just happy to have found them at all. People are very hushed about the strange happenings coinciding with Imhotep's rebirth."  
  
"It is understandable, Ishmael. Here," he said, jumping off his mount, "ride for a while, you need rest." Ishmael looked uneasy for a moment, looking at Willow, then to Keturah, and finally at Ardeth, whom he nodded to.   
  
The Medjai leader helped the boy up, as Willow dismounted. "I could use a bit of walking myself," she replied. She smiled at Keturah and offered the use of her horse. Just as reluctantly, Keturah allowed herself to be assisted into the saddle, inwardly grateful at her Cauoipe's kindness.  
  
Willow and Ardeth dropped behind the group, but not far enough away for Imhotep's liking. They were still stronger because of their numbers and their possession of extremely proficient magick users. He was but one man, and even one man with notoriously dark, powerful magicks at his fingertips was no match for a witch, a Slayer, three shamans, and two dozen Medjai. He was going to need help.  
  
***** 


	17. Chapter 17

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
Willow and Ardeth kept their distance from the group, a tumultuous discomfort plaguing both of them. She smiled easily at Keturah who kept glancing back, who no doubt felt a little guilty at taking her Cauiope's horse.   
  
A wave of thick, merciless pain swept over the red witch, and she slumped to the ground, clutching frantically at her chest and head, her eyes rolling back as the convulsions swifted through her. Her mind swam with visions of pain, agony, wonderment, fulfillment, torture... She couldn't sift through the disturbing images as the seizures continued, and oh, but what she didn't wish to be home, with her mother and father, in her own bed, not out in the desert with people who, until a few weeks ago, were total strangers.  
  
Distantly, she could feel strong hands holding her head to the side, making sure she wouldn't choke, and another pair of hands on her hips and shoulders, keeping her steady. 'Isis! Help me!' her mind screamed, but the pleas must not have reached the diety as more powerful tides washed over her.  
  
She faded in and out of reality, her subconscious dancing a sadistic tango with her conscious, allowing her to see beyond the real, beyond the false, beyond the here and now, into the future; her hideous vision was blurred with a blood hue, and she screamed.  
  
When Willow was finally let back down to Earth and she could open her eyes, the worried faces of her friends, family, and Medjai warriors stared down at her. Her throat hurt as she tried to speak, and she opted for a whisper instead. "I know how to survive..." she choked on the words as they spilled out of her mouth, and the blackness surrounded her, wrapping her in its peaceful, merciful arms.  
  
She awoke to a new camp and Buffy hovering over her. "Wills! Oh, my God, are you okay, Willow? You scared us all half to death!"  
  
Willow nodded weakly and swallowed. "I'm sorry, Buffy. Isis was trying to tell me something, and I wasn't listening, so she kind of had to shout." A small, pained smile played on her lips and she coughed softly. Buffy jumped up and fetched a glass of water for her friend.  
  
"What did Isis have to say?" the Slayer inquired gently. She did not wish to push at Willow, but Ardeth would never let the poor witch sleep and rest up if Buffy did not get the information from her.  
  
"She wanted to tell me that I was ready, for one thing. She also wanted to tell you that she's sorry. She was looking forward to getting to know you on the other side, but there was no other way." Willow smiled warmly at the blonde girl, whose eyes were glimmering with unshed tears. "I have to do something before we fight with Imhotep. I have to cut my hair."  
  
A raised eyebrow posed the question hanging on Buffy's lips. "What?" she asked agast. Willow's hair was already kind of short, and she didn't think it could get much shorter. "Why? And how much?"  
  
"Because I am a warrior, and I can't be vain and worry about my hair when I'm fighting the fight. And at least three inches." Willow's nose crinkled. "I don't think it'll look good, but it'll grow out. Plus, it's for a good cause: the World."  
  
Buffy marvelled at her friend's courage. Here was shy little Willow Rosenberg ready to sacrifice everything she'd fought so hard to keep for herself, and she was doing it all with an air of grace and beautiful acceptance that was so hidden behind the layers of timidity and near-geekiness Buffy had associated with the redhead the first time they had met. "Yeah, a good cause. I guess we know a lot about those, huh?" Willow's smile was a happy one, full of love and kindness as she nodded an affirmation. Buffy cleared her throat, almost nervous at Willow's obvious gesture of compassion when she was the one that was truly suffering. "Well, I think that Giles and Xander wanted to come in and see you. I'm pretty sure Xander has chocolate for you, too."  
  
"Great! I could use something to cheer me up!" Willow smiled again, this time however, it was gleeful, almost childlike in its intensity.  
  
"I'll tell 'em that you'll see them now." Buffy rose and started toward the opening in the tent, only pulling back and stopping momentarily when she heard Willow's soft words of thanks, and she continued out into the night air.  
  
***** 


	18. Chapter 18

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
After visiting with Xander and Giles, Ardeth came in to check on Willow's condition. He was pleased to find her sleeping, eyelashes fluttering angelically against her pale skin. Exiting the tent, he went to find Buffy.  
  
She was sitting beside the dwindling fire, her eyes focused on the heart of the orange flames. "Ardeth. What are we going to do?" she whispered, glancing up at him. "Willow can't take many more of these attacks. Not with the kind of magick she's going to have to do against this thing." Her voice was thick with the emotion that her blue-brown eyes shown with: anger mixed with a type of panic and disillusionment. "I thought that this would be just like all the other apocalypses: fight, kill, go home. But no, there's visions and warriors and damned mummies coming back to life! *I* could handle this kind of stuff, but Willow isn't a slayer, she's a Slayerette, she doesn't have the same stuff that I was given, and I don't know if she'll survive, and I'm scared!"  
  
The Medjai leader considered her outburst for a moment before speaking. "If you are saying that this is unfair, then I agree. I would not wish what Willow is going through on even my worst enemy, and yet, she is my family, just as you are. But she is strong enough to survive this, as you put it, and she will, if I have any say in it." He placed a calming, grandfatherly hand on her shoulder, then pulled her into a tight hug. "You need to help her fight, and that is how she will live through this apocalypse. She doesn't quite know how much she will need you, but I know that she will have to have some help fighting this evil, and Isis, in her infinite wisdom and grace, chose you. Once again, you are the Chosen One to fight with Isis' Chosen Daughter."  
  
Buffy let the tears flow down her cheeks as she clutched to Ardeth's robes, sobs racking her slender frame. "No, it is not fair, but if *I* have any say so, we will *all* make it out."  
  
*****  
  
Willow sat upon her horse, checking the mirror again, seeing if she had actually cut her hair. And there it was, bouncing around her ears, seemingly mocking her with its lack of weight against her shoulders. She swore softly, mentally apologized to Isis for hating what she was commanded to do, and put the mirror back in her pocket.  
  
The City of Hamunaptra loomed dangerously on the horizon and a flash of Imhotep grazed the red witch's mind. "Damn," she cursed softly. "He has started."  
  
"Who started what?" Xander asked, riding up on her left side. "A fire? 'Cause then we could call the park rangers," he joked weakly. Willow glared good-naturedly at him and turned her head back to the city, her eyes taking on a far away look, as if she were zoning in and out. The brunette boy waved his hand in front of her face and smiled. 'Good old Willow,' he thought, 'Good to know somethings don't change.'  
  
***** 


	19. Chapter 19

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
As the city on the horizon came closer, Willow grew more anxious and worried. She knew that Imhotep was waiting for her and that he would not give up easily, but a small, innocent part of her wished that she could talk him out of what ever dark ritual he was planning. "Damn," she cursed quietly, her left hand coming up to scrub at the tears trailing down her cheeks. "Get ahold of yourself, Willow. Now is no time to be crying."  
  
"'S tha perfect time ta cry, Red." The voice came from beside her. She glanced over to find Spike's penetrating ice blue gaze focused on her. "Ye're facin' somethin' even more evil than me, and apparently that's somethin' ta cry about." A cocky grin crossed his strong features, followed by a very human, very Spike-like compassion. "You'll do okay, Red, I know it. Don't count yerself so short."  
  
Willow smiled warmly and nodded. "Yeah, thanks, Spike. No matter what anyone else thinks, you've always been good to us. If no one else appreciates it, I know I do." Her words touched something still human in his heart, and he slowed his horse, reaching out for her hand. She clasped the offered hand, squeezing it gently. "Thank you, Spike."   
  
Buffy looked up in the direction of the whispered conversation, witnessing the tender exchange between the witch and the vampire. Her first reaction was to go and break it up, but she held back, noting that Willow was smiling. Her first true smile in a week, and Buffy didn't have the heart to intrude. She felt Giles ride up beside her, and she chanced a look at him. His face was tight and tense, mirroring Buffy's own emotions. "It's weird, isn't it, Giles?" she asked.  
  
He nodded, sighing wearily. "Undoubtedly. I'd've never dreamed that we would be here. It's new territory, even for a Watcher."  
  
"That's not what I meant, Giles, and you know it." Her smile was warm, but still hinting at a sly sarcasm.  
  
Giles scoffed. "Yes, Buffy, I know what you meant. Let them be. If anything between them is to be, it will be, and we can only hope that Tara will be all right."  
  
Buffy nodded and turned her attention back to the city. They were dangerously close.  
  
*****  
  
"You all know what to do. We've trained and researched for this moment, and we're all ready. Isis bless you, and watch your back. I want to see everyone's smiling faces after this is all over," Willow shouted over the group. She ventured a glance around the people; weapons were raised, prepared for a battle that some would not live through. A sadness clenched her heart and she fought the tears again. 'I love you, Tara,' she thought, hoping that her blonde witch would hear her. A deep breath, and "Let's go!"  
  
*****  
  
"They're here."   
  
Daniel's head shot up as his eyes darted wildly around the room. "Who's here, Imhotep?" he questioned.  
  
"Isis' chosen one and her warriors."  
  
"Good. Let them come. They will not survive."  
  
*****  
  
Willow checked the crossbow on her shoulder, patting it gently into a more comfortable position. She held the torch up, trying to make her way through the corridors to the ritual room, her instincts telling her that that was where they'd be waiting.  
  
Finally the group reached the room. The wide open area dazzled with gold and flickering flames from the torches set up around the center tables. The warriors ran silently around the room, surrounding Daniel, Imhotep, and Anuk-su-namun and blocking all escape routes.  
  
Willow heaved a deep sigh and walked up to the table, her eyes locking with Imhotep's. "Mind if we skip the pleasantries?" she asked in Ancient Egyptian. At the curt shake of his head, she took the crossbow into her hands, aiming it at his chest. "Give this up. You know you'll never win, Imhotep. Let's just get it over with."  
  
"No, Isis," he responded, "It is you who will never win. I can see it all, you know. The wolf, the witch, the boy in this very room. You are the one that never wins. And the saddest thing of all is that which you want is that which wants another."  
  
"You know nothing, Imhotep. Nothing about any of them." She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. Now was not the time to let him get to her. The mind games were one of the things she had expected from the priest, but this was harder than she'd thought it would be. "Now," she began, her confidence coming back stronger than ever, "we can do this the hard way, or...well, there's just the hard way." With her last word, she pulled the trigger, feeling the jolt as the bolt flew toward Imhotep's chest. He caught it in midair and snapped the arrow in half.  
  
Willow tossed the crossbow behind her, knowing it would land in Buffy's hands. She heard another bolt leave the weapon and the shriek of a mummy. It had begun.  
  
*****  
  
Thirty minutes later, all of Imhotep's mummified priests and guards were down, and only four Medjai warriors had been injured. Willow and Imhotep circled each other, both looking for a good strike. Magick crackled through the air; Willow's shone a bright red, while Imhotep's mirrored his magick, black and evil.   
  
Anuk-su-namun moved stealthily toward Buffy, seeing her attack and taking it, leaping and punching at the blonde. Willow looked away from Imhotep for a moment and he struck, one fierce bolt to her chest, sending her sailing across the room. She laid silent for seconds that melded into an entire minute, and Imhotep walked toward her motionless form, looking like a cat stalking its prey. He held up his hands, calling ancient magicks to his aid, and prepared to deliver the final, fatal blow.  
  
As he brought his hands down, Willow's onyx eyes snapped open, her hands flew up, red lightning coming from her outstretched fingertips. The crimson light flowed into Imhotep's body, overpowering the black. He screamed a shrill, searing scream and fell to the sandy floor, convulsions racking his frame. Finally, he stopped moving altogether, silent and dead.  
  
A wind began blowing, gathering up all remnants of the battle, picking up Anuk-su-namun and Imhotep's body as well. The whirlwind grew to a gale force, causing the need for eyes to be covered and heads to be protected.  
  
A crack of thunder and the air was calm once more.  
  
"No! No! It's not supposed to end like this!" Daniel shouted at Willow, who turned to look at him with an almost innocent face.  
  
When Willow spoke, she spoke with a voice that didn't belong to the redhead; a voice laced with a divine power, a voice of Isis. "'Not supposed to end like this?' How is it supposed to end, Daniel? We're all supposed to die to ease and appease your pain and bloodlust? I'm sorry you were hurt so many years ago, Daniel Archem, but pain is a part of life, as is death. Your wife grieves for the husband that died in you, Daniel. She was looking forward to seeing you again when your life was over, but she's so sad now. She doesn't know who you are anymore. You're evil now, Daniel, and she doesn't know you."  
  
A sob wrenched itself from Daniel's body as he cried. He crawled to Willow's feet and tugged at her clothes. "Alicia! Forgive me, my love! I only wanted to be with you again! Forgive me!"  
  
Another strong wind whipped and a figure stepped from the air, coming slowly into focus as a beautiful woman. She was tall with silvery white hair and piercing violet eyes, eyes trained on the huddled form of Daniel. "Get up!" she shouted, "Stop crying, Daniel! You've lost."  
  
"Alicia! Forgive me, please, please, forgive me!" Daniel screamed at the apparition.  
  
Alicia turned to Willow, a sad smile on her face. "He may not be the man I loved, but I still care so much for him. I beg for mercy, Isis. Be kind in your punishment of him."  
  
"It will be considered, my child, but the choice is not mine. That belongs to Willow." Her words echoed off the walls of the room and Willow slumped to the ground.  
  
Alicia bowed her head, disappearing into mist. Daniel's sobs continued as Willow stood again. "You know what's been given to me, Daniel, don't you? Your life, to do with as I will. And as much as I may want to, I can't kill you." She paused, heaving a deep sigh. "Alicia still loves you, and Isis is merciful. As the daughter of Isis, I, too, must be merciful. You may go, but if you show your face in Egypt again, you will be dealt with. Severely. Get out. Get out before I can change my mind." The familiar red lightning flashed in her midnight eyes as Daniel ran from the room.  
  
"It is done," Willow whispered. She collapsed, her eyes rolling back in her head, the magicks flying from her body. Ardeth stood closest to her, and he knelt to gather her into his lap.  
  
"Willow!" Buffy shouted, running to her friend's side. "Is she...Ardeth, is she dead?"  
  
The Medjai leader shook his head. "No, just sleeping. She survived."  
  
"We all survived," Buffy corrected, a triumphant smile crossing her face.  
  
***** 


	20. Chapter 20

Title: Red Willow, Red Sands  
Author: AriellaGiselle  
Rating: R, for violent imagery and situations.  
  
Summary: A member of the Scooby Gang is destined to save the world, and this time, it's not Buffy. The Mummy Returns/Buffy crossover.  
  
Remider: Alex O'Connell was born in November, 1928, and Sheila (Rosenberg) O'Connell was born in January, 1944.   
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Buffy belongs to Joss, the Mummy belongs to Universal. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
*****  
  
--2020--  
  
Belynda Isis Rosenberg-McClay flipped through the pages in her mother's journal. Well, one of her mothers. Tara slept peacefully one floor above her. Willow was in Egypt with Aunt Buffy visiting family.   
  
She read random phrases and passages. Things like: "Spike's still half-human," "Tara's pure white dress was beautiful," "Dawn and Jake's ceremony was beautiful," and "I've learned that Daniel Archem committed suicide about a week ago."  
  
As she flipped backward through the pages, Belynda's eyes fell on one entry, and she began to read the writing.  
  
"September 29, 2001  
  
It's official. I'm pregnant. We've been home for nearly two months now, and after missing both of those months, I had to do the test. My instincts tell me it's a girl. Me, the mother of a beautiful little girl.   
  
Tara's ecstatic. At first she was upset, and, well, pissed off. Once I had convinced her that I hadn't slept with anyone but her, we'd come up with a viable reason for my pregnancy: Isis. After the battle, I remember Isis coming to me again...  
  
*****  
  
--2001--  
  
Willow moaned, opening her eyes. "Where am I?" she called into the void. She recognized this place. This is where she'd been waiting for Isis the first time. The place with what seemed like no floors or walls.  
  
"You are in the space between life and death, consciousness and dreams. I have a gift for you, my child. A gift of life. A gift that only you can give." Willow smiled at Isis' words.  
  
"I don't understand, Mother, but I don't need to. Please, I will learn on my own. I will figure it out."  
  
"As you wish, my child. Peace be with you, and I will always be there to guide you, Willow. Awaken and rejoin your world."  
  
"Thank you, Mother. For everything."  
  
*****  
  
The End 


End file.
